


The Curse

by Reda



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Gen, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:47:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22522000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reda/pseuds/Reda
Summary: Arthur Kirkland, an elf pirate cursed to immortality, sits in the darkness of a prison with only his memories for company. Memories of the person who led him into piracy in the first place.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6
Collections: Dragonblade - Hetalia Fantasy AU





	The Curse

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of my “Dragonblade” Fantasy AU - named after my original fantasy story, which is the world I’m using here. Takes place before “What We Become” - though it stands on its own. Might be a little confusing because not much of the fantasy setting is explained at all in this short. I’m writing quite a lot in this world so as I work on another mutli-chapter fic, here’s a little something-something one shot. (Without anything worth warning about for once, yay!)

He stared into the darkness and the darkness stared back. Hallucinations of his past come to haunt him in this prison. With a grimace, Arthur Kirkland slammed his eyes shut and tightly gripped the little piece of stone he’d managed to isolate and sharpen down into a weapon. All these years chained in the darkness and this little sharp stone was all he had to show for his escape efforts.

Not that it would matter. He was late, far too late to save anyone. To save her.

_ Aurora… _

They’d already killed her. Her and the rest of the mutinous crew. Death by execution or death by old age. And he was the only one left. 

Always the only one left.

~!~

_ Southern Continent, Western Field, Many, Many Years Ago _

He woke up in a pool of his own blood. With a groan, he slowly got to his feet and brushed the dirt from his clothes, green travel cloak included. At least the bandits hadn’t taken  _ everything _ . Probably because all those blood stains would be hard to remove from his clothes, which weren’t worth all that much in the first place.

“Damn it,” he growled. “Why does it always happen like this?”

He let his frustration wrap around him like his cloak for his mental state. If he allowed his thoughts to wander too much, he’d end up drowning in his own tears. Again. He was so  _ sick _ of feeling sorry for himself.

So he was essentially immortal. So he couldn’t be killed. So his magic protected him from even the most gruesome of deaths. So he had to watch everyone he knew pass on without him.

So what? So what, so what, so what? So.  _ What? _

“It’s not like I cared about anyone to begin with anyway!”

The frustration exploded out of him and rushed out into the wind of the open field. He clenched his hands into fists and glared at the nearby rabbit poking out of its burrow. Elf he may be, but he was not in the mood for cute, woodland creatures at the moment.

He’d been leaving the nearest town when they attacked. Leaving with a nice selection of travel gear and necessary items, like food. All of that gone now.  _ Damn _ .

He couldn’t stay in one place for long, couldn’t settle down anywhere. People would become suspicious. Rumors of his immortality had already started to flutter through the last town because of a knife fight in a tavern. Sure, everyone accepted that elves had long lifespans and magic shields to bounce back whatever dangers, but he had been stabbed clear as day and there had been so much blood. And yet he had walked away after only a few hours of rest with hardly a scar on his blood-stained skin.

So, yeah, it was time to leave. He should’ve expected the bandits to chase him down. Should have known better. After all, how many times had it happened already?

WIth a groan, he put a hand to his head and worked to hold back the hot, angry tears. Gods, he was so tired. So, so tired.

“Are you alive?”

He jumped at the voice, eyes widening at the image before him. A woman. Another elf. Dressed so differently from anyone else in the towns these days. His mind screamed “pirate,” a warning to run and never look back. The red coat with gold trim. The red tricorne hat with the feather… The most beautiful dark, wavy hair flowing from that hat to her shoulders. And a set of stunning blue eyes staring back at him with the most curious expression.

“What’s the matter, elfling? Cat got your tongue?”

He flushed at the  _ childish _ endearment and scowled - or tried to scowl. “I’m fine and I’m not a child. I was accosted and robbed by bandits, but as you can see…”

“You’re alive,” she said, and pointed to the nearby pool of blood that he had stepped out of. “Even with all that blood.”

“Well, yes, but -”

“And not a scratch on you.”

He shrugged as nonchalantly as possible. “I got lucky, I suppose.”

“Hah! Yeah right!” She grinned and her eyes sparkled. “I’m no idiot, elfling. I’ve seen that immortal curse once before, though only once mind you, and I always considered  _ him _ a special case…”

His mouth fell open. “You’ve -”

“My name is Aurora,” she interrupted, changing subjects in a flash. “What’s yours, elfling?”

This was all spinning out of control way too fast for him. It was difficult to concentrate. Difficult to  _ breathe _ .

Someone else had the immortal curse. She had seen it before. She could recognize it. What did that  _ mean _ ? And if she knew that he was far older than he appeared, then why did she keep calling him -

“Oi, elfling,” Aurora said, waving her hand in front of him. “I want you to join me on my pirate ship. It’ll give you somewhere to settle and keep you safe from the misunderstanding mortals. But I want your name first.”

His tongue froze at the roof of his mouth, mind spinning with questions, but eventually he croaked out his name. “Lianstrel.”

Aurora stared at him, blue eyes wide, and then she burst out in laughter, holding her sides. “ _ That’s _ your name? Stars above, that won’t do at all.”

“Hey, I -”

Her laughter died to a chuckle and she slapped a hand on his shoulder. “Arthur Kirkland. Much better name for a pirate if you ask me. Sorry if it sounds a bit human, but I kind of like the exotic flavor. What do you say? Will you join my pirate crew, Arthur?”

“I -” 

So fast. So smooth. He couldn’t think straight, but her aura, her demeanor, her sheer  _ understanding _ .

She wouldn’t hurt him for being immortal. She wouldn’t chase him out and curse his family and his blood. She wouldn’t try to steal his magic for study.

No, she was accepting. She understood. He had never felt this before in his life. How could he possibly turn her down?

“Yes,” he stated, standing taller than he had in years. “I’ll join your pirate crew, and I accept your name for me.”

“So proper,” Aurora said as she clicked her tongue between her teeth. “Don’t worry, I’ll rid you of  _ that _ habit soon enough. I think we’re going to have a fun time together, Arthur.”

His heart raced in his chest as she smiled at him and he nodded in return. “I hope so, and I hope it lasts, Captain Aurora.”

~!~

It hadn’t lasted long enough. 

Arthur clutched the sharp stone in his hand, feeling it poke into his skin, drawing blood. The pain was a reminder to step away from the memory. A reminder to tug on his chains and check their weight. Once more. One of these days, he might think of a way out of here. One of these days, he would catch a guard and get the keys. Something. Somehow. Someday.

Or was that just a false hope? Why try so hard? Sure, the humans had stopped their experiments on him for now, but after enough time had passed, they would undoubtedly start again. He couldn’t die, but he sure could experience hell. 

Footsteps echoed down the pathway outside. His ears picked up the sound of guards arguing with someone. Oh, right. They brought in another prisoner some time back. Probably just giving him food and dealing with a smart mouth. 

Eventually, the guards left, never once going into Arthur’s own cell. He sighed. Had they forgotten him down here? Was this stretch of his life going to be the hell of boredom? How many torments would he have to suffer? Boredom and hunger. Starvation, without actually starving to death. 

Gods, why?

He stared into the darkness and -

“Fuck the world!”

Arthur blinked, lifting his head as if he could stare beyond the stone walls to the cell across from him. The voice echoed through the area, bouncing around all the emptiness. For some reason, it made him chuckle. He could have ignored it. Could have gone back to his empty, forgotten, immortal existence.

But instead he spoke back, letting his voice croak out loud enough to bounce back to the stranger in the other cell. “Fuck life in general.”


End file.
